


Syren Pan's Dragon Age Drabbles

by syrenpan



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fenders, M/M, kink!meme, tuesday prompt fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenpan/pseuds/syrenpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles in response to LJ's 'Dragon Age' Tuesday Prompt Fest and kink!meme mircofills. DA, DAA and DA2. More will be added and may contain violent, mature and explicit themes as well as hetero- and homosexual relationships, also absolutely crack sense of humour. Stay clear if this is not your cup of tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just another day in Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Dragon Age (c) Bioware. No copyright infringement intended.

'Don't close your eyes, my boy.' His mother's gentle words compelled him to peek out from behind her apron where he was trying to hide from the eerie blue eyes of the man who didn't belong.

The stranger had come up the path at dawn, looking scary and foreign and _wrong_.

He had asked for food and water and some kindness for a weary traveller.

Mother had asked the man to leave but the stranger had just smiled and repeated his plea.

'Watch closely. boy. This is the will of our beloved Andraste who has returned to us. And those who deny Her glory will perish before Her might,' Father said as his knife opened the man's throat and the eerie blue turned to black. He didn't look so scary now. The boy smiled.

'Now, fetch me the cleaver, Kolgrim, Her children are hungry.'


	2. Unacceptable

That templar, smuggled into the ranks of the Grey to keep taps on Anders, had made them desperate.

The pantry was dark and small and reeked of spilled beer. It was almost wicked to do it in here but it was the only room that guaranteed some privacy. It had been this or the privy and Anders had dug his heels in when it had come up as an option.

With hindsight something was bound to go wrong.

'We can try again in a few minutes.' Anders said in a voice that he had come to understand was supposed to be soothing but sounded more condescending and ...amused? A notion which was somehow made worse by their difference in height.

'I know you haven't done this before,' the blonde mage rambled on and added hastily,' neither have I,' when he noticed the other twitch. 'I know we can make it work. I think we need to get closer. Maybe if I hold you like this...'

Angry blue light flared all over his body when Anders cradled him in his arms.

If it wouldn't be wrong Justice would say he took pride in his patience with his situation so far.

Exiled from the Fade.

Trapped in a rotting human corpse.

Resorting to convincing his friend that he should make some room in his living shell so they could join forces.

But trapped in a nug destined for dinner? Unacceptable.


	3. That's my other favourite thing about you

'Cheer up, Blondie, you are making Ser Broody look fun with that face you are wearing lately.' Varric said as he put a pint in front of his friend.

''m not drinking. Justice doesn't let me get drunk any more.' Anders replied gloomily. Despite his remark he let his finger trail around the rim of the tankard, gathering foam before he sucked the digit into his mouth. 'Sweet Andraste, how I miss it.' Anders thought.

From the look the dwarf gave him he must have said that out loud.

'You know maybe, just maybe, you and your friend Justice should learn to unclench a little. You used to be so entertaining when I first met you.' Varric took a swig from his own pint, feigning nonchalance while studying his friend.

'You know what's my favourite thing about you?' Anders asked still fingering his beer.

'If you say my chest hair, I'll let Bianca do the talking from here on.'

Not even a smile. Varric hadn't really been worried about Anders up until this moment.

'You don't judge people. You take everyone as they come. It's why you get along with all of us.'

'I like to meet new people. Every new person is an opportunity in disguise. That's a bit hard to exploit when everyone's first reaction to you is to want to slice your head off. I'm just selfish that way.' Varric offered as a way of explanation.

'Then do us a favour and stick with that selfish way of yours when it comes to me right now and let me be! Got it?' Anders punctuated that last bit by shoving his pint into Varric's direction, causing the tankard to topple and spill beer over the table. Varric barely avoided the blast by shifting his legs.

The two friends stared at each other for a solid unblinking minute.

'Want another one?'

Anders exhaled air he hadn't even noticed holding. He chuckled. 'That's my other favourite thing about you.'

'What's that, Blondie?' Varric asked softly.

'You don't hold grudges.' This time Anders smiled and for a second the apostate's old self shone through. It was almost enough to break Varric's heart.

'Except for Bartrand.' The dwarf said hastily before his worries could show and darken the mood again.

'Except for Bartrand.' Anders agreed. 'And the pints are on me.'


	4. It's dawn, are we up early or very late?

They are still wearing the same clothes stained with sweat, their own, and blood, mostly enemies', except for that blotch on her cuff that had been a friend. She studies it in the faint light, her legs draped over the side of the wooden chair in her dining room.

' _I hate you,_ ' she thinks not even sure whether she means him or herself.

'Hey, it's dawn.' Merrill's voice pulls her out of her trance. She looks up and is almost surprised to see herself surrounded by friends.

Merrill has jumped up and approaches the window, looking every bit the Dalish girl and nothing like the blood mage she used to be.

Aveline and Donnic have stopped their quiet private conversation for the moment to watch the first light of the new day fill the room.

Sandal, Bodahn and Orana must have gone to bed some time ago. She didn't even notice.

Varric wakes up with a grunt, jerking his head off the table. He blinks and smacks his tongue. 'Dawn? Are we early or very late?'

'It's the first day of the rest of our lives. Might as well get an early start in.' Isabela states surprisingly chipper from where she is sitting on the floor with Fenris' head in her lap. ' _The pirate who tamed the wolf_ would make for a cheesy love story,' Marian thinks and promises herself to mention it to Varric later.

Despite feeling washed out and sad and tired she cannot help but smile. All her friends are here and alive and well, except for one. She knows she will mourn him for some time, maybe forever. But it is dawning and the beginning of a new day and she has a city to rebuild.

What did her mother always say? ' _Well, then I better get started._ '


	5. Make a Move

'You are doing it again,' Isabela sighed with a hint of irritation in her voice. Maker knew she was fond of Anders, especially his electricity thing, but this _situation_ was getting ridiculous, and worse the mage's twitching was distracting her from checking out what the 'Hanged Man' had on offer this evening.

'Sorry...,' Anders flinched and seized the bouncing of his leg under the table. Only to start drumming his fingers against his untouched pint. The pirate stared at her friend in disbelieve before she said, 'Enough!' In the voice she usually reserved for her crew members and bed fellows who liked to play naughty games and grabbed the mage's hand.

'Look, he is sitting right there with Varric,' Isabela started, fixing her friend with a hard stare,'just walk over to their table and, you know, make a move.' She let go of his hand with a gentle shove.

Anders gaped at her as of she had suggested he should march into the Gallows and place a big wet one on Knight-Commander Meredith. Considering what she had actually suggested maybe that was a more likely scenario that wouldn't get him killed.

When he found his voice again he asked, 'Are you out of your bloody mind, woman? He _hates_ me! _I_ hate him. If I come on to him the next move I'll see is a glowing fist sticking in my chest.' Maker's breath why had he agreed to go on that damn quest where they had ended up needing to clean themselves in that mountain lake?

'Anders, he won't do his magical fisting thing just because you tell him you have been lying awake ever since you all went swimming, making sweet love to Widow Thump and her four daughters because you found out exactly how far those tattoos really go on that lanky sexy...'

Anders shook his head in exasperation. 'Whatever. I'm not going to do anything and you will shut up about it or next time you can itch till the Maker returns.'

'Huh? Fine, don't make a move, be miserable,' Isabela huffed, 'just stop fidgeting.'


	6. What's going on?

'What's going on?' Hawke asked, casually leaning against a beam in his clinic.

'Nothing. Not a thing. Why do you ask?' Anders replied way too fast and Andraste's arse he used to be a better liar.

'You used to be a better liar.' Hawke confirmed his private analysis. 'Now tell me why have you been avoiding me?'

Him? Hawke thought this was about him? Typical. It almost made Anders smile. Out loud he said, 'I haven't been avoiding you. I have just been busy with healing and ...mage stuff.' He really sucked at this.

Instead of another verbal confirmation Hawke merely raised his eyebrow.

Maybe he should try the truth? 'Look, this isn't about you, Hawke.'

The other eyebrow joined his sibling on the Champion's forehead.

'It's about Fenris.' Anders admitted. 'He bothers me.'

Hawke's face slipped into a pensive frown. 'I see. Do you want me to talk to him?'

'No!' Anders replied with more force than necessary. 'Nah, I say bother but it's fine. Nothing I cannot deal with. I'd rather you wouldn't draw attention to it.' Lest the elf cottoned on that he had occupied Anders thoughts more than was wise.

 _I agree._ Justice's voice boomed in the mage's head. Anders did the internal equivalent of sticking out his tongue at his spirit friend and almost missed Hawke's departure. 'All right then. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early. Those dragons won't leave my mine by themselves. Night.'

The door of the clinic banged shut.

 _You have to get much better at deceit if you want to ensure that justice is served for our cause._

'I know.' Anders agreed out loud. 'I have plenty of opportunity to train. Starting tomorrow.'

 _Why is that exactly?_

'We are fighting dragons which means Fenris is coming too.' 


	7. Special Guest

'Andraste's arse hold still, Hawke!' Anders snapped at his friend, emphasising his command with a glare. Only to find that the Champion of Kirkwall was too busy chewing on his lower lip and trying desperately to look anywhere but the mage who was kneeling in front of him.

Hawke's trousers were currently pooled around his ankles, his bare ass freezing in the perpetual draft that seemed to go through the Darktown clinic, and Maker he was itchy!

'Is it bad...?' The rogue finally dared to ask, still studying particular interesting shadows on the ceiling, after the healer had been silent for what seemed like forever.

After another minute or so the mage's face appeared at his edge of vision with a facial expression that made Hawke want to punch him in the nose.

'It seems you have a 'special guest' getting chummy with your balls,' Anders explained in the cheerful tone of all smug bastards everywhere before he turned to rummage around in his potion stash.

'That bitch gave me crabs?' Hawke cursed under his breath, absent-mindedly scratching his family jewels now that Anders' back was turned.

'Stop scratching!' Anders commanded and handed the rogue a vial filled with red liquid. 'Wash the area twice a day with this for a week and you should be fine. You can put your trousers back on by the way.'

Hawke hastily reached for his breeches with a deep scowl that would give the broody elf a run for his money.

'Oh and if you mean by 'that bitch' a certain relic thieving pirate, I couldn't possible say. This is a sanctum and everything that happens here is confidential. But yes. I treated her a few days before she up and disappeared on us.' Anders volunteered.

'The bloody c...,' Hawke froze in mid-curse.

The apostate lowered his head conspiratorially. 'Yeeees?'

'Well, su...suppose someone had been a bit broken up about being left out to dry by that bitch and someone else had come to sort of ...kiss it all better...' the rogue explained, his face a picture of worry and guilt.

Oh the Maker so had a sense of humour! Anders pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle a laugh before he went and fetched a second vial. 'Tell that someone else to wash their face and if necessary other parts with this same as you.'

The Champion flushed scarlet but took the second potion without further comment before he made to leave.

'Oh and Hawke,' Anders called after him, 'tell Fenris to come see me if he is still itchy next week.'


	8. Fever

'Are you sure? Is there nothing you can do? Isn't your wretched curse good for something?' On any other day the question would have offended, would have been snarled or spat at him in disgust.

Not today.

'I'm afraid not. This is nothing magic can cure.' The mage replied levelly despite the fact that he felt his heart beating in his throat.

The other man stood in front of Anders, his whole body shaking, crimson cheeks and flushed lips, and so much heat reflected in his eyes, the mage was half surprised he didn't spontaneously burst into flames.

How could he have known that it wasn't just him? So many days, so many nights aching for his embrace, his lips, his cock to the point where Anders thought it would burn him inside out.

Their friends might have a few words to say about this later, they were like family after all and not everyone would approve of this liaison.

But damn them all to hell! Anders closed the final gap between them, daring to pull the other into his arms and kissing him within an inch of his life.

Finally, they pulled back reluctantly to catch their breath.

'I feel... I feel like I'm going to die...' His new lover murmured into the crook of Anders' neck. It made him smile.

'Yeah, but what a lovely way to burn?'


	9. Toast and Tea

The Champion purposefully marched into the Gallows. Templars who tried to greet him or interject thought better of it after one look at his face. Truly angry Hawke was a fearsome thing to behold and he was in a very foul mood.

Orsino and Meredith had dragged him into an open argument in front of the Viscount's Seat in broad daylight. Until that old biddy Elthina had shown up, Hawke had been _this_ close to settling the argument with his Key. But that rambling Grand Cleric still wielded some influence and had sent Orsino and Meredith back to the former slave island to cool down.

Yeah right! As if these two could ever agree on anything.

Hawke could picture it. Orsino half lying on his desk ready to conjure a fireball in his right while his left desperately grabbed for Meredith's gauntlets firmly locked around his throat, trying to throttle his scrawny neck.

He had to hurry those two were a pain but a necessary one. Hawke all but ran the last few steps, ready to break down the door, he charged into the room...

'Sugar?'

'Two, please,' Meredith replied politely.

Both mage and knight looked up in surprise when Hawke crashed through the door.

Everyone stared at everyone else. Hawke open and closed his mouth a few times but nothing would come out.

'Champion, would you like some toast?' Orsino asked with a warm smile while Meredith said in that didactic tone of hers, 'It is polite to knock before one enters someone else's private room, Champion.'

The door closed with a firm thud as Hawke departed without a word.

Orsino and Meredith exchanged another puzzled look.

'He may live in Hightown but he still has the manners of a Dog Lord,' Meredith remarked dismissively.

Orsino just shrugged and added more butter to his toast.


	10. I can't help falling in love with you

He sat in the shade watching her trying to drill some backbone into the fresh meat that were the new recruits. They had bits and pieces missing already as if a Mabari had chewed on them.

Maybe because a Mabari had chewed on them – repeatedly. He smiled.

'You want to be guardsmen? Five against one and you look like chopped mutton. I can hear the Coterie laughing already.' The Captain of the Guard was going easy on them today. Oh but she could be a real bitch when she wanted to and those were the days he well and truly loved her.

It seemed inevitable. Over the years his feelings had slowly eased from admiration of her strength to a much deeper attachment. The more time they spent together the more he saw past her appearance and recognised a kindred soul in the former knight.

He lifted his head from his musing as Aveline approached him.

'You did well my friend as expected. If you haven't had your fill yet, there is a beef bone with your name waiting in my office.' She gave him a friendly pat on the hat before she returned to bark at the recruits some more.

He really wanted to lick her hand but those intimacies were better reserved for later. Behind closed doors when she would scratch his ears and let him rest his big old Mabari head in her lap for a few blissful minutes.


	11. Melt Away

'Did you see that?' Varric's jacket was singed, soot stained his cheeks and if you looked close enough Bianca was quivering in his usually steady hands, bits of dragon innards hanging off her tiller.

'I always thought if you had to go, go with a bang. Looks like I'm not the only one.' Anders answered looking just as charred and trying to beat out the tiny flames on his shoulders. The smell of burning feathers permeated the cave. 'Andraste's tits, I loved those pauldrons.'

'You look a bit like the bird we had for dinner last night,' Merrill observed cheerfully as she strolled past them looking fresh as the daisy Varric always compared her to towards the largest chunk of deceased High Dragon. She either ignored or was oblivious to Anders' attempt to Stone Fist her in the back but lucky for her he had burned all his mana in the battle.

'Hawke, are you in there?' Merrill called, a little concern in her voice. The remains of the beast were twitching in response, rocking left and right before a large bit that used to be half a rib cage hit the cave floor and Marian Hawke emerged. Her grin threatened to split her face.

'There you are! Did you get the amulet? How did you do that by the way?' The Dalish woman rambled.

'Well, let's see: Dragon swallows amulet. Mage in rock armour dives after it down the dragon's throat. Mage detonates Fell Grenade while enclosing herself in Barrier. And boom!' Marian laughed.

'You are insane, Hawke! As your healer I have to advise you to get your brain checked out before one of your antics gets us all killed. And ...look at my coat!' Anders whined, voice pitched but his eyes burned blue for a split second.

Marian just waved him off before she turned her attention back to her lover. 'You know me, always with the crazy! And that's a no on the amulet it sort of melted but, guys, was that fun or what?'

'Aww. Too bad. I guess we'll never find out now,' Merrill pouted before she kissed Hawke playfully on the lips.

'No really, did you _see_ that?'

Anders sighed and took his one true friend gently by the arm to stir him after the love birds and out of the cave. 'There, there, don't worry, Anders is here.'


	12. Don't trust anyone, least of all yourself

'I ask you one last time, is this really necessary?' Varric hated how whiny he sounded but that nug-humper of a brother had dragged him to sodding Orzammar with their beloved but very much so deceased nana hidden in a merchant card. 'If they catch us they won't even bother to force us to join the Legion, they will shove us straight into the river. The fiery river of lava that is, right there!'

And it was every bit as depressing as he had imagined. Even the statues of Paragons looked like they suffered from permanent constipation. No wonder Bartrand loved this place. Speaking of...

The hood he was wearing made it impossible to see Bartand's eyes but Varric knew anyway that they burned with cold fury as he shoved him into the stony likeness of Branka.

'Listen, you Bronto-licking coward! For the last time, we are doing this for nana...'

'Not for the Gem of Tethras then?' This time Bartrand's fist connected with his nose. Not broken though, being back home made him go all soft, apparently.

'If anyone asks, we are returning our beloved to the stone, all very private. Remember everyone here is an enemy and by the ancestors, no matter what don't.open.your.mouth!'


	13. Demand of the Qun

_'Keep him close. Do what you must.'_

The youth was not _viddathari_ yet, still _bas_ , but given time he would fully embrace enlightenment. Of that, Ashaad was certain.

 _'Do what you must.'_

However, when the time came would the same still be true for Ashaad? He wondered as he gazed at the myriad of stars in the night sky, Seamus, fast asleep, a solid weight on his chest.


	14. This is no time to panic

How had he gotten into this again? Oh yes, as always, she had talked him into it.

Alistair was taking his armour off with angry, sharp movements, trying very hard not to think what he was about to do. No, not thinking about it. Better to stay angry, focused. Otherwise his brain would actually cotton on and no good would ever come of that.

Better to stay focused. Angry. Grrrrr.

First it's, _'have you ever'_ , with a lamppost in winter and stuff. He had given her a rose, a special one and she had accepted him...it...no, him. He had really believed that she was the one.

He pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him naked save for his smallcloth. ...Grrrrr.

But before they had even gotten around to the actual lic...stuff... bit, she had turned around and said, _'I'm in love with Zevran now,'_ who by the way tried to kill us, but hey, he is hot and you are out, Alistair, thanks for playing.

And then after all the maiming and the pain, to add insult to injury, it's, _'guess what, you need to fuck the witch to save my ass, ...our ass.'_

Maker, the only ass here was sitting in his smallcloth on the bed trying not to whimper while Morrigan was looking at him. Like a wolf looks at his dinner.

That's it! He was the (bastard) son of a king, a Templar (almost) destined to hunt blood mages, a Grey Warden, a survivor of Ostagar, he would die facing down Darkspawn. He could do this, totally.

And then he was alone in the dark, with Morrigan.


	15. Out of Luck

'Fuck a nug! Are you out of your bleeding mind? What were you thinking, Blondie?'

Anders' face was buried in his hands, blonde bangs flying with every movement of his head, 'I don't know...'

Varric slumped back in his chair, staring at the healer. Maker knew he was fond of the crazy mage, however he had always figured his friend would one day do something incredibly stupid that would get him killed dead, but _this_?

'I had a good hand!' Anders whined all of a sudden fists banging on Varric's table.

'Against the elf? Stone face lucky-hands Ser Broody who has only lost about as many times playing Wicked Grace as I have fingers, on one hand?'

Anders turned his head to look at Varric like a wet kitten. 'If Justice would let me I would run but he thinks that I have to honour the bet. That traitor...Oh shut up, you could have stopped me!'

'Now keep it together, you two.' Anders managed a weak glare at that. 'All right calm down, but what _exactly_ did Fenris ask for as payment?'

Anders groaned and let his forehead thud against the wooden surface. Repeatedly. 'Of all the things he could have asked for? Why couldn't he have just asked for sex like any normal person...'

'Please stop that!' Anders stopped but kept pressing his nose against the wood, a tiny sob escaped his lips. 'Seriously, Blondie, what did he ask for?'

'You don't want to know... you really don't...'


	16. Old, unhappy, far-off things

Memories were tricky things. According to Aveline ten eye-witnesses would remember ten different versions of what had _really_ happened without fail. Because everyone has a history that shapes who they are and what they see. Over time the feelings attached to certain actions can overpower the rest and finally replace the actual sequence of events with something more in tune with your emotions. A happy person would most likely paint a different picture than someone who has been kicked around all his life.

All the hate and rage that tethered him to his past like a captured animal had obliterated the few happy moments he had had after his escape from his master. The memories had shape-shifted until they had become twisted things that had festered, creating a vicious cycle.

And tomorrow when he would look back on what had happened here not an hour ago, this too would fade, become another one of those things and he would be angry with himself. _Again._

But not now. Right this moment everything was new and close and his body felt heavy and sated, his mind almost at peace.


	17. Honey, I'm home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, I have no excuse. Inspired by the prompt and a beloved fanart comic - you know the one! *wink*

'Honey, I'm home,' Doctor Anders called as he opened the door to their cosy little duplex, letting in a few flakes of freshly fallen snow. It would be a perfect Christmas yet again.

His beloved wife and mother of his two adorable daughters walked into the hallway. 'Oh, you are home early.' Her skirts swished around her short, well-rounded legs before she stood on tip-toe at the same as as he bent down to receive a peck on the cheek from her full lips.

She tsked at him. 'You forgot to shave again, Blondie,' her voice was stern but her eyes smiled fondly at him.

Before Anders could remind his dearly beloved that they had agreed to reserve that special nickname for the bedroom, the pitter-patter of his eldest daughter's boots drew his attention.

'Daddy, Daddy, look what we caught!' Aveline shouted excitedly while grabbing his hand at the same time, not even giving him a chance to take off his coat as she dragged him determinedly toward the living room.

'I was patrolling our garden again and I was following those footprints and then before you know it I saw a bare foot vanishing through our cellar window. So I got back-up and Isabela distracted him with her balloons so I could throw the blanket over him and we tied him up and – there he is!' She ended her report proudly pointing at the well-bundled package sitting under the Christmas tree.

Anders noticed how the red and greens and yellows of their festive lights reflected in the snowy white locks of what his brain told him was absolutely impossible. 'An...elf?'

'He is awfully grumpy though!' Isabela said. She was sprawled on the couch where she was watching cartoons.

'You were supposed to guard him!' Aveline shouted but Isabela just snorted and continued to suck on a candy cane. 'Youuu...'

Anders couldn't stop staring and therefore had to leave it to his wife to drag their daughters into the kitchen before their fighting could destroy the rest of the Christmas decoration.

'Where am I exactly?'

The elf's voice was deep and sensual and eerily calm. Anders had to suppress a shiver.

'Err...you are in Kirkwall?' Anders volunteered carefully. He distantly registered glass shattering from the direction of the kitchen.

'Is that a statement or a question?' The elf asked again but with a flicker of impatience in his voice.

'A statement?' Anders flinched as their prisoner raised an eyebrow and he hastily corrected himself. 'A statement.'

'Everything is so colourful here. Lights, clothes... you look very strange. What do you do?'

Anders smiled. 'I have the pleasure of working my magic at the Free Clinic. You know, helping the poor who cannot afford food, or shelter, or Medicare...or...is something wrong?'

Without warning the elf flared bright blue and like a ghost he seemed to pass through his chains and the couch table and the last thing Anders heard was, 'Did you say magic?'

*~*

Anders woke with a shout. 'Maker's breath!' Before he fell out of his cot.

He summoned a tiny spark to light the nearest candle and felt relief wash over him as he recognised the familiar surroundings of his Darktown clinic.

He flopped back into his cot, still panting and his nightshirt stuck to his sweaty skin in odd places. 'That's it. No more mystery meat stew for me.'

The End


	18. Going Home

They welcomed the blade inside their flesh like an old lock being opened with a key that had been lost for too long. It didn't hurt, there was just quiet and the feeling that everything was going to be all right now.

Somehow.

Vengeance was gone and Justice and Anders would talk for the last time. Here in this world of dreams before they had to go their separate ways.

After having lived under the man's skin for so long, Justice could tell that Anders regarded him with wonder and nostalgia.

'It's been a long time since I have seen you, my friend.' Anders smiled, happy and warm the way he used to before they had joined, but there was sadness in his eyes as well.

The same sadness that stirred inside Justice right now. He knew from Kristoff's memory and also from Anders' that this was what it felt like to lose an old friend or a family member. No, it was more than that...

'I have no way to thank you for what you have done for me, my friend,' Anders said quietly.

'I COULD SAY THE SAME ,' Justice replied. The memory of the physical man who used to be Anders was already fading away, to where, Justice did not know.

'I will miss you,' his voice was merely a whisper.

'I WILL REMEMBER YOU.' Spirits had no tears but Justice's voice cracked all the same.

Desires were what distinguished spirits from demons as but in this moment, Justice felt no shame that he wished with all his heart that the could go with him.

And just like that Anders was gone and Justice was finally home.


	19. I Hate Waiting

'I hate waiting,' Anders volunteered in the dank darkness of the cave.

A lot had happened in the past day including dragonlings and undead and drama and it all culminated in a cave-in beneath Sundermount. After a lot of toing and froing with Hawke and Isabela on one side – the free side – and Fenris and Anders on the other – trapped side – they decided the safest thing to do was to get a few more people to help dig them out lest more of the mountain would come down if they used magic.

'And I needed to know this why exactly?' Fenris growled back in a way that he hoped would discourage any further inane comments from the abomination. Maker, that would be the day...

As if on cue Anders replied, 'Because we all know what a compassionate soul and good listener you are, Ser Crankypants.'

'Hawke, I am sorry. I tried everything but Anders' heart just wouldn't fit back into his chest cavity after I ripped it out,' Fenris threatened in his calmest voice, and it worked.

Blessed silence ensued for several minutes before Anders spoke again. 'You know, I think that was the first time that you've ever called me by my name!'

' _That's_ what you heard?'

Fenris couldn't win.


	20. Smart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's crack. Again.

'There she is! Maker, she is beautiful.'

'Uh-huh. Right. Now 'member what I tol' you about dwarven women folks.'

Alistair looks at Oghren, who is all fuzzy and wobbly, and nods eagerly, which makes the dwarf spin around the inn room. That Oghren, he has drinking problems!

 _'Then why am I taking advice from him?'_ Part of Alistair's ale-sloshed brain asks.

 _'Shuddup brain, that's the closest we have ever come. He was married and all, he is smart, and a dwarf as well, he knows stuff!'_ Alistair informs his brain somewhat angrily. His brain only shrugs in a 'Don't say I didn't warn you', way, or it would if brains could shrug.

'Okay, her we go... No, I can't!'

But before he has time to panic a smelly dwarven foot in a steel boot makes sharp contact with his lower back and propels him right into his fellow Grey Warden, making her spill her ale all over her front.

'Hi Alistair...,' she says somewhat morosely. Oh Maker, she is always so prickly but he cannot help himself, he loves her. With one last glance back to his wingman who makes not so subtle 'go-on' hand movements, Alistair straightens himself to his full height and asks:

'Wanna grease the old bronto. With me?'

~*~

When he wakes up the next morning he finds himself naked - save for his smalls - tied to a lamppost in Denerim town square, being looked at by a bunch of dirty urchins.

 _'Told you so.'_


	21. Tea

'What's that smell?' Alistair asked suddenly, looking up from the stew that he had yet dare to try. It had been Morrigan's turn to cook.

Everyone's eyes automatically turned to where Oghren was snoring on his back with what looked suspiciously like one of Alistair's socks draped across his face.

'It appears one of your socks has found true love, my friend.' Zevran commented before he returned his attention back to his food.

'Oh, haha. No, it's not him...it smells like...like...'

'It's called w-o-r-d-s Alistair and you can use them to s-p-e-a-k...oh, never mind,' Morrigan huffed dramatically.

'Yes, you are all very hilarious. Is it make fun of Alistair day? Don't you dare open your mouth again, Morrigan!' She closed her mouth with an audible clack before she returned his command with an evil smirk.

'No, I mean that smell it's like...,' Alistair closed his eyes, 'like warmth and safety and a nice pair of slippers on a sunny afternoon. Like what I would like home to be.'

When he opened his eyes again, they were all staring at him again in wonder and bemusement, food forgotten on their spoons.

'Alistair, I had no idea you were a poet at heart,' Leliana cooed from the other side of the fire.

It made the ex-almost Templar flush scarlet and just when he was about to give up, Wynne appeared seemingly from out of no-where.

'Cup of tea, anyone?'


	22. Tasty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - contains needles under skin!

'I'm so glad you finally let me do this for you, my friend,' Zevran purred as he meticulously worked the needle under Alistair's skin.

To his credit the Warden didn't even flinch, well, not any more that is. He had stopped after about five minutes and there may have been some tears, too. But he was calm now, almost as if his mind was elsewhere while he let Zevran do his work.

'What made you change your mind if I may ask?' The assassin asked without looking up from his creation.

Alistair remained silent to the point where Zevran thought he had not heard him or, incredulous as it sounded, nodded off perhaps. The answer he eventually received stunned him however to the point where he had to put the needle aside for a few moments.

'...you did. When we went for a swim the other day and I got a good look at yours, and you looked just so...' The last bit of the answer was muffled. It was hard to tell in this light and with Alistair's face buried in the crook of his arm but the tip of his ears practically glowed with embarrassment.

Well, this was an unexpected development. For a few heartbeats Zevran considered his options but life was too short and it didn't happen every day that a future king admitted being attracted to you, so he slid on his knees in front of Alistair's chair, gently grabbing and tugging on his hair to force him to lift his head.

As expected that pretty blush extended over the Warden's cheekbones and nose.

He looked good enough to eat.


	23. What did you call me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Microfill response to a kink!meme prompt asking for an embarrassed but secretly liking it Fenris when Anders calls him 'Love' in front of everybody.

It happened automatically, like breathing.

‘Are you all right, love?’

The endearment rolling off his tongue without a second thought or care for where they were and who was with them. Because Anders – mage, Warden and abomination – was still a man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

It was one of the many differences between them that far outweighed their similarities. Where Anders flung his emotions at the world, Fenris tried to hide them behind a wall of cool distance – that’s what he called it – Anders called it _broody arrogance_ , usually before he kissed him. In private, at least until now.

Fenris felt his cheeks heating with embarrassment as he tried very hard to ignore the gasp from Hawke and the cooing and cat-whistle from the blood mage and the pirate.

Anders however seemed to be completely oblivious to what he had done and just kept looking at him with concern and something that made Fenris want to kick him and run away to hide in his cellar.

‘Love?’ Anders asked again, still staring intently at him with so much warmth in his eyes as if Fenris was the only being on the planet that mattered, it did funny things to his tummy. He felt a little ill actually. Maybe he should grab Anders by the pauldrons and drag him off to the mansion where they could discuss the rules on public display of affection in private and maybe with less clothes between them.

A choked noise from Hawke finally broke the spell and Anders briefly shifted his attention to the rogue with an impatient, ‘What, Hawke?’

It was such an unexpected reaction, Fenris had to fight to keep a smug grin off his face. It was no secret that Hawke had tried in vain to get into both his and Anders’ smalls for ages. Actually, that was one of the factors that had started things between them: how can we keep the fickle Fereldan with the bad jokes out of our business?

‘So, you… and Fenris?’ Hawke asked with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.

Anders paused for a fraction of a second, just a slight stiffening in his shoulders as awareness washed over him. No wonder he kept losing at Wicked Grace, all impulse and no control!

As if Fenris had used a crow bar, Anders’ head slowly turned back toward him, looking very guilty and flustered.

Well, that cat was out of the bag!

Fenris allowed the ghost of a smile to wash over his face, enjoying how it made Anders’ eyes light up again, before he answered in his lover’s stead.

‘Yes, Hawke. Anders and Fenris.’

 **The End**


	24. Reincarnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was 'Memory'

Fenris suddenly remembered that the indigenous people of Seheron believed that a person's soul did not simply pass beyond the veil but was able to return to inhabit new forms of life, again and again.

This trivial piece of information popped into his head when he felt needle-sharp claws sinking into the skin of his bare toes. Looking down, Fenris snatched the orange tabby kitten by the neck, eyeing it suspiciously.

It attempted to swat him on the nose with a rather pathetic little mew.

Impossible.

...besides the mage had never been _this_ cute!


End file.
